


Snow Queen - day 6 - Sleigh Bells

by ravendiana



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21730228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravendiana/pseuds/ravendiana
Summary: Crowley has a really bad feeling about his vague assignment
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	Snow Queen - day 6 - Sleigh Bells

#  Somewhere in the Arctic - 1855

Crowley stomped across the frozen waste, bundled in so many layers he most look round from the outside. It was dark, but that was hardly new, it had been dark for at least several days. Why in Satan's name they would send him to this frozen wilderness he didn't know. He did his best work abid the teeming crowds of cities, where all it took was a push on the right person to set off a cascade that could run for years. Besides with was no place for a reptile, they should have sent a Legion, they are warmblooded, and if one of them died out here they'd just make another.

He thought he heard a sound, something out of place, bright and cheerful. He looked around but couldn't see anything but the featureless white world. He resumed walking. He wasn't even entirely sure where he was, of where he was going. He'd come up from a meeting below straight into the nothingness. He was going north, he knew that much. He'd never be completely lost when under the stars. But north From where and To where he wasn't sure. They just said get out and head north.

The sounds came again, like laughter or water. He strained his eyes but still couldn't find the source. The correscationg lights that danced across the sky were beautiful, but the odd illumination they left wasn't the best for distance viewing. They created shadows where none should be, that moved like living things. He knew he was more menacing than any umbral haunt, but they did make it blessed hard to see. He could barely trace the line of his own footprints, disappearing into the night.

A third time he heard it, echoing through the still night. He'd hear an owl hoot maybe an hour ago. Sometime before that he'd heard an arctic fox digging in the snow. He was too far inland, wherever he was for any of the more abundant life of the coasts. No bloody bears at least, they were all sleeping nice and warm in their dens like sensible creatures. He wished he were too.

When the sound came this time he finally saw something. Flashes of light from behind him. He strained his eyes to see more. At least if he could see what it looked like he'd know a bit more about where he was. The chiming sounded metallic, which was less helpful than it would have been a few hundred years ago. Whole place was getting smaller all the time these days. People finding other people, which was going a whole lot better for the finders than the found. Missionaries were as bad as (most) angels. High and mighty words about "saving people" but let someone say they are quite happy as they are, no saving needed thanks, and oh don't the whips and knives come out. Makes sense they work for Heaven, act just like them.

The lights and sounds were getting closer, and the sounds finally resolved into bells. What sort of benighted fool would be all the way out here and still bothering with sleigh bells. Not bloody likely to have to stop short. If there was another pedestrian within 50 miles he'd eat his hat. Whoever this fool was it strained credulity for them not to be Crowley's objective out here, which made him dislike them on principle. He still had no idea what he was meant to do to the idiot that they hadn't done to themselves just by being out here. 

As the vehicle got closer, the animals pulling it became more distinct. Once he'd realized he was hearing sleigh bells and not harnesses jingling he'd ruled out dogs. At that point he'd expected horses. Bringing horses up here seemed like the kind of move that would go with the sleigh bells. He was wrong. What he did see were a matched pair of reindeer as white as the barren landscape. Their harnesses must have also been white, since he couldn't see them, excerpt for the spots where they were gleaming with the golden bells he had been hearing. Their antlers were wrapped in greenery, though they weren't close enough yet for him to say what, other than some sort of vine. If he knew a blessed thing about reindeer they might tell him something about where he was, to bad he didn't.

Once he could finally see the sleigh that didn't help much either. It looked like a fantasy of a sleigh and not like any particular type he'd ever seen. It was made of something shimmering and translucent, like glass or ice. He was beginning to feel distinctly odd about this. The winter fairytale vision began to slow as it approached. He noticed no driver sat up front, the reins lay loose, the reindeer seeking to know where to go.

Crowley felt his heart seize up. His strange assignment coming into focused, and if he was right, this was a test, and not one he knew how to pass. He could see the passenger now, and for a moment, even though his fears had just been completely confirmed, he clean forgot them. She was breathtaking, as in he forgot to breath for a solid minute. For one thing she was a "she" which was unusual enough. Aziraphale rarely took on a female shape, but when she did she was glorious. 

Her hair was long, as it almost never was, a starlight spill down her back and shoulders, crowned by a spiky coronet that looked like shards of ice. Her throat was defined by a choker of the pale blue stones and depended lower in an elaborate necklace. She was all in white velvet with traceries of the same gems glittering across the bodice. The soft, pleasant curves she always had were magnified now, he could see her magnificent bosom and could imagine the extra fullness in her hips, currently hidden beneath the white furs that blanketed her lap. He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to wrap himself around her and hold her tight. He stood rooted to the spot as she pulled to a stop next to him.

"Crowley, what on earth are you doing all the way out here. There can't be much tempting to do here?" At the angel's words, the reality of the situation came crashing back to him. 

"I think you are the reason I'm here," he replied. "They just said go up here, go north, you'll know it when you see it. And the first thing I saw was you in this stunning fairytale rig. What are you up to in this get up?" 

"Oh, I'm supposed to be a vision, they think the arctic needs a saint, but the people here don't seem to go in for that sort of thing. Lot of stuff and bother if you ask me. But it was rather a direct order my dear, I'm afraid I can't can't just let it drop."

"Nah, best you don't, think I'm going to have to be seen 'doing something' about it." He turned back to the snow. 

"Cowley," Aziraphale called, "I can at least let you ride along a bit of the way. Not too far, mind, but it's dreadfully cold."

Crowley considered the danger they were being watched already, but if they were, they'd already been seen talking. He climbed in and Aziraphale budged over to make room, but the sleigh really was built for one so it was a tight fit. Crowley didn't mind at all. He leaned as far into the angel as he thought he could get away with and lost himself for a time in the warmth against his side, and the chiming of the bells.

Eventually they stopped. "The village is just a few hours north on foot," Aziraphale looked over sadly, "it's probably best you go on alone from here."

Crowley got up reluctantly, "You're right, Angel, thanks for the lift anyway. If say good luck, but well…"

"Yes, well, I'll see you after?"

"I hope so, my lot didn't arrange transport home either." With that he stepped out of the sleigh and began to walk. The reindeer started moving again and quickly the entire conveyance disappeared again into the white world. The last thing to go was the sound of bells.

Crowley walked the rest of the way into the town, which hardly warranted the name. He hid himself and set about dropping some eves. His luck was apparently back, as he overhead the most fascinating bed time story. He left the town and came back in, openly and carrying a great pack. He told the curious people that he was a scholar there to collect stories, especially fairytales. He proceed to sit in the warm Central meeting house, and copy down every story told. Hey was quickly joined by every child, and no few of the adults. 

He had only been at it a few days when the children started telling their own stories. They had seen the Snow Queen in the woods. Most of the adults laughed then off, but Crowley, the kind scholar, listened quite seriously and wrote down their stories with the rest. He told them how clever and brave they were to remember their old stories and get away from the dangerous fairy. 

After a couple of weeks the children stop having new stories of the Snow Queen in the woods, and the old folks have finished telling all their tales. Crowley promises to send them copies of the book he will make, and put the name of each teller with the tale. (And he actually does.) He leaves the town with a pack of provisions an skis he now knows how to not fall down on. He goes much faster than when he was on foot.

He's gone half a day when he hears the bells again. The reindeer are their normal dun now. The sleigh is wood, painted blue and silver. The occupant looks as he usually does, in a long white coat, his gloved hands on the reins, his short white blonde curls peeking out from under his hat. The sleigh comes to a stop nearby, and Crowley skis up.

"Need a lift again?" Aziraphale asks. Crowley grins.

"I won't say no to one, at least as far as a town if regular routes south, or a port." He climbed in. Stowing his skis and pack on the back. With a flick of the reins they were off again.

"So, you going to tell me how you thwarted me this time?" The angel was smiling as he asked.

"Me? I didn't really do anything. Just sat in the village and let them tell me stories. Gonna make a book of it so their traditional beliefs don't disappear." He gave his best guileless grin. Aziraphale looked unimpressed.

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

Crowley laughed. "No, really, this is all on your bosses. They sent you out rigged up as a local fairytale who steals children. Once I get it printed, you can take them the book."

"They get more and more out of touch every century." Aziraphale said with a grimace. "Most likely they were hoping a child would try to 'banish' me, which is basically a fake miracle and would make a fake saint. How does that even help?"

"I can't say, almost sounds like one of our sort of schemes. If I didn't know better, I'd think someone in our chains of command was sharing notes." As soon as the words were out of Crowley's mouth his spin felt even more icy than the clime could account for. If Heaven and Hell were comparing notes, it would only be a matter of time before the Arrangement was found out. He realized he needed a plan for when that day came. He could see similar trepidation on the angel's face.

"You know what, I think that route downstairs was somewhere near here. Might be best if I went back that way." The sleigh immediately began to slow.

"Yes, that might be a good idea, my dear," Aziraphale agreed. "Do mind how you go, though."

"Course I will, Angel, just got some thinking to do." Crowley replied. He retrieved his pack and skis and headed off. He needed to think of some kind of insurance against Hell.


End file.
